Nobody knew where they came from, when, or why.. but everybody embraced them without question. The markings. Every child was born with an abstract marking somewhere on their body - usually the arm - and there was only one other person in the entire world that matched the mark. Finding your match was the same as finding your soul mate. You were meant to be together, and would be happy until the end of time because you were simply meant to. Some markings were more intricate than others. The upper classes tended to have what most considered more 'beautiful' markings. For some reason, those in the lower classes were more simplistic. This system made it easy for most to know where to go looking for their lover. Of course, there was the odd exception - an upper class person born with a simple lower class marking, or vice-versa. It was rare, but it did happen. Rarer still were those born without a marking at all. Those destined to live and die without love. Kassandra Adams was one of those rarities. She had been born to a set of middle-class parents who were on their second child. Already they had a son who was marked for the upper classes. They had assumed their luck would hold with the second. When it was discovered that Kassi was not going to follow in her brother's footsteps, she had been immediately shunned. Though she was thankful that her parents had not done as most did in their situation and simply cast her out to die or be taken in by some less savory people, she still wished that they felt the same affection for her as they did Daniel, her older brother. He had always told her that she would be fine, but there was some sort of.. wall there. Something that neither one could breach. They were different, too different. And so she had left when she was a young teen, trying to find her own way in the world and trying to escape the knowledge that she had no real place to be. That was how she had come here, to Milliane. The city was massive and full of people going about their day, each one secure in the fact that they would find their matches someday if they hadn't already. It had been all too easy to learn how to blend in and hide. Nobody even glanced at her when she walked down the street, and she was invisible as could be when she had to shop. The only person that ever seemed to notice her at all was her neighbor, and she wasn't sure if that was just because she had accidentally bumped into them when she was moving in or not. She lived on the seventh floor of an older-style apartment building, with one bedroom and a living room that was half a kitchen and half an empty carpeted space. It should have technically been a dining area, but she had taken the true living room and boarded up the windows and doorways to create a dark room to develop her pictures in. The only light in there was red, to protect the paper and film. She had strings dangling from the ceiling, holding pinned photographs that were not quite dry and ready. The rest of her apartment was fairly simple - a half-filled fridge with snacks inside, a plain bed with a few books on a bookshelf. There was only one piece of real sitting furniture, which was the wooden stool she used when she was painting. That was her true passion. Not her camera, but her brushes. She took pictures only to inspire herself to paint something better, and her apartment was littered with canvases, both used and not. And that was precisely why she was out tonight. It was late, but she was on a mission. In her hands she had a small canvas wrapped in paper to keep it hidden and dry. She had noticed an art gallery down the street the day before, and there had been a sign in the window requesting new artists. It was late enough now that she was convinced it would be closed and empty. Her plan was to simply leave the piece by the door. A silent contribution. She smiled a bit to herself, her bright blue eyes cast down as she avoided the attention of everybody she was passing on the sidewalk. Even her clothes seemed to blend with the shadows between streetlights - dark denim jeans, a baggy grey sweater and her brown hair was simply swept over one shoulder to keep it out of her face. Simple. She liked simple. She soon found the gallery and paused, glancing around. Well, nobody seemed to be paying attention.. She edged a bit closer and gently set the canvas down near the door, then turned with every intention to scamper back off home.